


Thursday

by Sincestiel



Series: One Week [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, OOC-ness, Prostitute Dean, Prostitution, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincestiel/pseuds/Sincestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's weird.  It should not be weird, Castiel thinks.  He and Dean have been engaging in their… <i>business transactions</i> for well over a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up waaaaay later than I meant to writing this. But you asked for it, so here it is. I am going to try to do one for every day of the week. No promises how quickly you'll get them though. I like run on sentences. I like fragmented sentences. That is a warning. But, if Mr. Poe didn't have to follow all standard grammar rules, then neither do I. Not that I'm comparing myself to him. I'm simply saying I'm emulating one of my idols by saying 'fuck off' to any rules I wish to ignore. Sorry, not sorry.

It's weird. It should not be weird, Castiel thinks. He and Dean have been engaging in their… _business transactions_ for well over a year. And, on top of that they text pretty regularly and even talk sometimes on the phone. So they've been in all sorts of compromising (and enjoyable) situations together _and_ they've engaged in small talk frequently. So this should be… not so _weird_.

But, the fact is, Dean is gorgeous. Deep green eyes, soft and full lips, sharp cheekbones and jawline, just the right amount of stubble. Not to mention his broad shoulders and strong arms. His muscled torso that tapers down into a perfectly shaped waist and then flares out into wider hips. And his thighs are just… even his loose jeans can't hide how chiseled his legs are. And Castiel has never had to look at him like this.

When Dean visits, they go straight to the bedroom and Castiel spends the majority of his time on his stomach. Mainly so that he can't see the veritable god working him over. And, obviously, when they text or chat, he can't see Dean. So he's intimidated, having to stare into those beautiful eyes and make conversation.

And what makes it worse, is that Dean is so laid back and confident. Castiel feels like he did back in middle school. Back when everyone teased him and no one wanted to be his friend. He feels like not enough. Like he really doesn't deserve to be sitting across from this amazing man. But Dean keeps smiling at him, holds the conversation almost entirely by himself. 

_Probably doesn't want to lose the business,_ Casitel thinks sourly, but then pushes the thought away. It might be true, but it's not Dean's fault this is as awkward as it is. Castiel just isn't good enough for a man like Dean. A man like Dean needs someone attractive and interesting. And that is most certainly not Castiel. He just wishes he'd thought this through a bit more before he'd invited Dean over like this.

But he'd been high on endorphins and the gentle way Dean had tended to him. And he'd thought about how Dean always takes care of him before leaving. He'd been wondering if Dean does that for every man he fucks. And, for some reason, he'd come to the conclusion that it was all just for him. Then he'd sent that stupid, impulsive text. Now here they are, across from each other at his kitchen table.

Thankfully, though, the food is almost gone. So Dean won't have to suffer through this much longer. And maybe Castiel, as much as he hates the thought, will cancel for a couple weeks to give Dean time to get over his traumatic experience.

"This is really good, Cas," Dean says, not quite his bedroom voice – and just the thought makes Castiel's dick give a hearty twitch – but still low and intimate. It almost gives Castiel hope, just the way Dean speaks to him, that maybe the night isn't a total bust.

But then he drops his fork and ends up with spaghetti sauce all down the front of his sweater and he knows that's it. Dean is going to get up and walk out, having finally realized just how unworthy Castiel is of his attention outside of a strictly professional relationship.

Castiel winces when Dean pushes his chair back, but he doesn't leave. Instead he ends up at the sink, dish towel in hand as he turns on the cold water. And Castiel sits completely still, terrified to move and make things worse, do something even more unforgivable.

"Cold water will keep it from staining. Hopefully," Dean says, approaching Castiel with the towel, "That's what my mom always said anyway."

And he doesn't seem annoyed at all when he crouches down to wipe gently at the sauce running down the front of Castiel's sweater. In fact, when he looks up, there's an almost fond expression on his face and Castiel's heart stutters, both at the look and Dean's proximity.

Dean sighs when he finishes wiping the mess away – only a faded pink mark left – and reaches up with his free hand to hold Castiel's knee.

"This is bad, isn't it?" Dean asks, looking out over the table and their mostly finished meal, "I kind of suck at this, honestly. It's been years since I've been on an actual date. And I'm a little rusty. But just… maybe don't kick me out as soon as we're finished here? Because I promise I'm an excellent cuddler. Though if you tell anyone…"

Castiel can't help the laugh that bubbles up out of him, and he quickly clamps his hand over his mouth. He's not usually prone to outbursts like that, but up close like this, he can see that Dean's just as nervous as he is. And it's really ridiculous that Dean thinks this boring, near disaster of a date is his fault.

But when he looks down at Dean, Dean's smiling at him, the little crinkles by his eyes framing his face in a very flattering way.

"Your secret's safe with me as long as you promise to stay long enough for me to validate that claim."

The left side of Dean's mouth pulls up even higher and his crooked grin is even more attractive than his tentative smile.

"It's a deal," he whispers, and his eyes fall to Castiel's lips, like maybe he wants to seal it with a kiss. But the thought makes Castiel jumpy and he leaps up from his chair before that can happen. He's never kissed anyone before, ever. And he's entertained thoughts that he might change that with Dean. But he's scared he'll get it wrong, be bad at it. Because Dean probably kisses a lot of people and what if Castiel just doesn't measure up?

"Um… are… are you finished? I'll clean up and we can take the wine to the living room."

Castiel starts clearing plates before Dean even answers, nervous energy forcing him to move. Anything to keep from wringing his hands or, on the flipside, throwing himself at this man. 

Hands at his waist stop him though, and Castiel braces himself on the table when Dean leans into his back and rests his chin on Castiel's shoulder.

"Relax, Cas. Nothing you don't want, okay? That rule applies even when you're not paying me. Just… slow and easy and it doesn't even have to be a thing if you don't want. We can just be friends sharing a meal and some wine. We can do this as often as you want, and if you ever want more – tonight or even months from now – all you have to do is ask."

Castiel finds himself relaxing – just as Dean instructs – into Dean's arms, letting himself recline slightly against Dean's chest. It's okay. Dean's okay and Castiel is okay. And they can take this slow. Or fast. However they want, because they both want. Or it sounds like Dean does, and he wouldn't have agreed to this date if he wasn't at least a little bit interested.

"Yes," Castiel agrees, setting the plates back down on the table, "I'll get this later. We should. The living room and a movie perhaps."

He can't even form complete sentences because Dean's hands are moving in soothing motions up and down his arms and right now he thinks kissing Dean might not be as scary as he was thinking. And he wants to kick himself for getting worked up over it. Dean has never been anything but respectful of Castiel's wishes. And he's always been so accommodating. And if Castiel is a horrible kisser, Dean will teach him how to be better. It's as simple as that.

"That sounds great," Dean answers, stepping back to give Castiel room to move. A surge of gratitude washes over Castiel and he turns to give Dean a smile. Dean is proving that he knows what Castiel needs even outside of the bedroom and Castiel isn't so nervous anymore at all. He trusts Dean to take care of him. And after more than a year putting himself in Dean's hands, he's finding that trust isn't misplaced. It's a good feeling.

*

The movie is bad. Lots of explosions for the sake of blowing things up. A plot that's hard to follow, if it's even there at all. And a bunch of sweaty men grunting and grumbling and shouting left and right. It's a typical guy's movie and Castiel had picked it because he'd thought Dean would like it. And he thinks he was correct, because Dean's eyes have hardly left the screen.

But even with his attention on the television, Castiel hasn't been ignored. Dean has him pulled into his side, one arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers rubbing absently at Castiel's shoulder. And the longer things blow up on screen, the farther they lean until Castiel is practically in Dean's lap and Dean's lips are almost pressed into his temple.

Dean is a fantastic cuddler. Warm and soft in all the right places. And by the time the movie ends, Castiel is more than a little tipsy on the wine and the smell of Dean's cologne. The feel of Dean so close without demanding anything of him has him wanting to give.

As the credits start to roll, Dean turns his head, eyes glowing and a smile adorning his perfectly shaped lips. And Castiel doesn't think. He just reacts, listens to his gut for probably the first time in his life. 

Dean's mouth is… everything Castiel has imagined. Tender at first, just a firm but soft press of lips. And then a trace of tongue. Not forcing his way in, but asking with little tantalizing flicks. Castiel opens to him easily and chokes back a moan when Dean's hand comes up to cup his jaw. It's sweet and amazing and such a contrast to the way Dean usually handles him – no less gently, but definitely more commandingly. And Castiel doesn't know if he wants more of this, or if he wants Dean to spread him out on his couch and wreck him.

Both, maybe. 

He wants it all.

His hands come up to grip the front of Dean's shirt and tug, and then they're falling back, both of them laughing, as Dean's body covers Castiel's. And yes. This is what he wants. Just Dean on top of him. None of the toys they usually hide behind. No rules even. Just Dean's hands on him and his hands on Dean. And less clothes. No clothes.

But when he pulls at the hem of Dean's shirt, Dean groans and sits up, pulling away and running his hands through his hair. Castiel goes rigid. What did he do wrong? And now Dean's going to leave. Just get up and walk out because Castiel is hopeless. An actual almost forty year old virgin (well, thirty-four, but close enough) who isn't worth this man's time. 

"Cas… maybe we should wait for anything more. I'm uh… I've had several glasses of wine and you're a little tipsy too," Dean offers, situating himself at the far end of the couch, but pulling Castiel's feet into his lap, massaging them as he speaks, "And it'll be better if we're both clear headed. I wouldn't want to screw up and do something you don't want. And I don't think you're in the best shape to say no right now."

Castiel calms again and internally berates himself for his tendency to jump to conclusions. And always the wrong ones at that.

"If you think that's best," is Castiel's reply, even though he's a little too stiff in his pants to say it with any sort of conviction. Still, if that's want Dean wants from him, Castiel can do it.

Dean looks at him then, a spark in his eye that's downright mischievous, "You're so well-behaved, Cas. So eager to please."

The way the words come out causes Castiel to shiver and he nods quickly. Because yes. He does want to please Dean. Has been aching to get his hands on this man for months now. But was just too scared to actually do it. Or even ask for what he wants.

"Are you a good boy, Castiel?"

Another decisive nod as Castiel's cock thickens in his underwear, starting to show he's sure.

"Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," Cas breathes, hips hitching a bit off the couch as his fingers dig into the cushion, "Anything you want, Dean."

And Castiel would swear he hears Dean whimper. His fingers tighten on Castiel's foot and then release so quickly Castiel thinks he might have imagined it.

"Want you to get yourself off for me, baby. Right here on the couch. Will you do that? Let me watch you come?"

The sound Castiel makes is not even remotely human. And it would be embarrassing if his head wasn't swimming in wine. But as it is he just gives another nod and reaches for his zipper.

"Yeah. Let me see your pretty cock, Cas. Wanna watch you make yourself feel good. Show me how to touch you for next time. Wanna make it so good for you, baby."

Dean's eyes are dark, and his hands are running convulsively up and down Castiel's calves. There's absolutely no doubt that Dean wants this as much as he does. And Castiel almost feels sexy when he opens his pants and reaches inside to pull himself out. It would be hard not to feel like that under Dean's intense gaze.

Even before he strokes himself for the first time, he knows this is going to be over so quick. All the times he's come in Dean's presence and not once has it been face to face. Yeah. This is not going to be a testament to his stamina.

Dean moans almost filthily when Castiel sets up a quick pace, jerking himself dry and hard almost to the point of pain – trying to stave off his already impending orgasm. But it doesn't sound fake, even though it's a little porny. Like always, Dean's reaction to him seems genuine.

"That's it. That how you like it, sweetheart? Hard and fast? Always figured you'd want it a little slower, the way you grind into the bed, burning for it long before you give in."

Castiel almost doesn't have air to speak, but he can tell Dean wants an answer, so he tries, "Too much. Need it now. You're too…"

And then he's coming, ejaculate splashing up onto the t-shirt he changed into earlier, toes curling into Dean's thigh, eyes squeezing shut because he can't _look_ at Dean right now. If he does he might explode. Fly apart into so many pieces just like all those buildings in the movie they were watching.

He's not sure how long he lies there, cock spent and twitching against his pelvis. But at some point Dean gets up, lowering Castiel's feet to the couch carefully. And then there's a warm washcloth swiping away the mess and damp lips against his forehead.

"So beautiful, baby. Did a good job for me," Dean praises as he helps Castiel out of his dirty shirt and pulls the blanket – the one he keeps on the back of the couch because it's so soft and comfortable – over Castiel's half naked body, "Rest now, okay? I'm gonna head home. I'll lock the door on the way out."

Castiel nods, turning his face for one soft, sweet kiss before sleep takes him.

When he wakes in the morning, he finds the table cleared and the dishes washed. And there's a text waiting for him.

_Did the best I could in the kitchen. But I had to get home and jerk off. God, Cas. Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?_

Castiel grins through his blush and replies immediately.

_I might need you to tell me again. In person. Tonight? Tomorrow?_


End file.
